


Singularity

by dormiensa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Post-War, Swearing, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11982615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormiensa/pseuds/dormiensa
Summary: An unexpected confrontation leads to repeated meetings over the years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Couple: Dexter/Emma from One Day (movie)
> 
> Premise: An unlikely pair meets up once a year on the same day for twenty years to catch up with each other’s lives, and their tenuous friendship eventually develops into something more. 
> 
> Note: A bit of movie canon was adopted. And very slight deviation from book canon. Huge thanks that can never be repaid to UnseenLibrarian, Misdemeanor, and raa for their help in getting this fic to this stage. All fails are mine, naturally. And apologies to physicists for misuse of the titular word.

**-273.15°C**

Hermione stood wearily to her feet. Between them, she and Ginny had finally managed to soothe the hysterical Molly, Ginny having forced a Calming Draught down her mum’s throat. She was now safely ensconced in Arthur’s arms. Hermione looked away from the spot where Percy’s still body lay, surrounded by his brothers. She felt her eyes welling and quickly took a few calming breaths. There was still much to be done, others to assist or comfort. 

She moved aside as another body was laid onto the flagstones. Her hand flew to her mouth when she saw the head of hair, although the features had been mauled beyond recognition. She had last seen Lavender collapsed in the Entrance Hall, after the brutal attack by Greyback. A sob escaped and suddenly, it was all too much.

Before she quite realized, she was running across the front courtyard, her tears blurring her path.

She stumbled and fought to regain her balance, having bumped against someone and ricocheted to one side. She hadn’t yet found her bearings to apologize when an angry, all-too-familiar voice shouted, “Watch where you—I should have known you’d somehow manage to escape, Mudblood! _Stupefy!_ Wh—Ow! Clytemnestra’s clit!”

Her reflexes had kicked in and her Shield Charm had returned the spell to its caster. She’d also added a Jelly-Legs Jinx, so Malfoy landed hard on his back. His wand had clattered away, but she magically retrieved it and now stood over him, her wand pointed at his heart.

“You won’t get away with this,” Draco snarled breathlessly. He began rolling up his left sleeve but stuttered in disbelief when he revealed a bare forearm. He gaped but then glared up at her. “What are you playing at, Mudblood? _Mmmphhh!_ ”

“You are wandless, Malfoy, and it seems I’ve called your bluff,” she said through gritted teeth. “So, I’d suggest you learn some manners. I’ll leave you to your contemplations. You can retrieve your wand from the Aurors, assuming they’ll give it back.”

She marched toward the castle but was slammed to a halt by an invisible barrier. Furious, she tried to circumvent it but, after several minutes, managed only to figure out its perimeter. They were trapped within a box-like structure roughly fifteen by fifteen feet. 

Striding back to the supine form of Malfoy, she knelt and ripped the gag from his mouth, demanding, “What are you playing at, you sodding Slytherin scum! Tell me what spell you used or so help me…”

“Believe me, Mud—” He choked when the tip of Hermione’s wand pressed lightly against his throat. “Granger, if I wanted to construct a magical trap for you, would I be found inside it?”

Hermione huffed, unable to deny the logic. She moved to the spot she deemed furthest away from the loathsome prat and sat with her back against the barrier. She cast a few sparks, but to her dismay, they hit an invisible ceiling and bounced about the sides before dissipating. She sighed. Attempting to ignore his temporarily motionless person, she looked about and was astonished to realize that this was where Harry and Voldemort had had their duel. The shrivelled husk of the enemy was nowhere in sight. She wracked her brain but couldn’t recall seeing it among the dead in the Great Hall. 

She pressed her hand against the barrier and decided it felt like the Shield Charm. Had Harry’s protective spell somehow enclosed this space? But what was there to protect? And how had she been able to stumble across its boundary?

Sudden footsteps made her jump up and be on guard. There were students scattering about the courtyard, still intent on retrieving the bodies of the fallen. Even though she knew it unlikely they could hear her, she nonetheless called out for help and noticed they did not react. One of them came close to one of the corners of her entrapment but seemed to unconsciously veer off, as if avoiding the space. _Great,_ she thought, _there’s some sort of repelling charm, too._ She sat back down and wondered if she’d ever escape. _If only I had my DA Galleon._

A movement and scuffling had her head snap up to see Malfoy on all fours moving toward the edge of the barrier and getting into a sitting position facing her. 

They stared at one another across the empty space.

Finally unable to stand the awkward silence, Hermione said, “What were you doing in the courtyard, Malfoy...before all this?”

“Patrolling,” he said tersely. But as if the question could no longer be contained, he blurted, “How did you manage to escape from Dolohov’s watch?”

Hermione frowned. “Dolohov is dead. One of the Aurors _Avada_ ’d him.”

Draco scowled. “That’s impossible! We rounded up the Aurors, those still alive, that is, and locked them in the dungeons.”

“But that’s not—” She paused as a tiny suspicion sparked. “What is the date, Malfoy?”

“Did you hit your head when they threw you into the Great Hall? It’s obviously April 19, 1998.”

“I’m not suffering a concussion, thanks for your concern. In my world, it’s May 2, 1998.”

“What do you mean ‘your world’?”

“Is Voldemort alive or dead?”

Draco hissed. “How dare you speak the Dark Lord’s name, you filthy M—” But he paused and looked about expectantly. When nothing happened, he refocussed on her and said in a slower and more deadly tone. “What do you mean ‘your world’?”

“Harry defeated Voldemort in my world. I assume he’s dead in yours.”

Draco gaped. A sudden thought had him scrambling to his feet and looking carefully at the environment beyond the barrier. When he finally sat down again, he stared at the ground, lost in thought.

Having finally wrapped his mind around his new reality, he looked up. “How did I get here?”

“I don’t know.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What is your guess?”

Hermione blinked. “Well, I think the duel between the Harrys and Voldemorts in both our worlds unleashed a wave of power once one wand overpowered the other. I think there was enough energy to cause a tear in the fabric of space-time, creating a wormhole that brought you here. And I guess there’s enough residual magic in the surroundings that the barrier was created to contain the rip in the continuum.”

Draco stared at her blankly. He recovered and said, “In plain-speak, if you please.”

“Oh, sorry, you wouldn’t know about quantum theory and black holes and such. Um… it has been postulated by some modern Muggle astronomers” —She gave him a look of challenge but his hackles didn’t rise. —“that there are in fact multiple universes that exist simultaneously. They call them parallel universes or the multiverse as a whole. I’m not entirely certain, but I think I read that it’s impossible—or at least very unlikely—for people to travel between these universes. But I guess you are proof otherwise.”

Draco struggled to find words. Eventually, he said, “I see. Of all the ways I thought I might die during the battle, this was not one of them.”

“We don’t know that we’ll be trapped here forever! I’m sure Harry and Ron will notice I’m missing and do a search. _Someone’s_ bound to realize that there’s a repelling charm around this space.” 

“ _There’s a repelling_ —” He took several breaths, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Having decided to be practical, he made eye contact once more. “Would your civility extend to conjuring a fire? Here, you can use these.” He threw a package of matches toward the centre of the space.

Hermione recovered from her surprise and headed toward the spot where the matches lay. She enlarged the package sufficiently and soon had a cheerful fire going. She then extended his wand, handle toward his direction. His eyes widened but he did not hesitate to step toward the fire to receive it. He nodded his thanks and, in a show of good faith, halved and Transfigured a handkerchief into two sleeping bags before tucking his wand into his arm holster.

Hermione smiled as she tucked herself inside her sleeping bag.

As they both lay staring at the dancing flames, a thought occurred to Hermione. “Malfoy, why do you carry matches? Why not just conjure flames?”

Pain flitted across his face, and it was with some reluctance that he replied, “I’d gotten hold of my father’s wand when I was very young, and the first thing I got it to emit were flames. I burned myself rather badly.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I hope there wasn’t any lasting damage?”

“No, but since then, I’ve preferred to light a fire without a wand.”

“I understand. So, how do you acquire the matches? I don’t suppose they’re more commonly used in your wizarding world than in this one.”

“I-I don’t know. I’ve always found a ready supply in my room.”

Hermione couldn’t suppress a smile. When she didn’t tease him about being privileged, he relaxed slightly. 

“Granger, may I ask… you didn’t seem as surprised about this area between the worlds as I was.”

“Oh, well, I’d been reading some books my cousin recommended—she’s an astrophysicist. Before I got my Hogwarts letter, we talked about studying the sciences together.” At his expression, she said, “I’m sorry, I should explain: science is a branch of knowledge focussed on discovering how every aspect of the universe works, from the stars to how life began. Anyway, so the idea of a multiverse is something that’s been on my mind, even though I don’t really understand all the theories behind it. And, well, I know a little bit about magical time-travel, so a kind of combination of the two doesn’t seem so outlandish, I suppose.”

“I see. I don’t suppose your books discussed how one might liberate oneself from the confines of this place?”

“Afraid not. Though if we do ever get out, I intend to look into it.” Lulled by the warmth and comfort, a yawn escaped her. “I’m sorry, Malfoy. I don’t think I can keep awake much longer. If you don’t mind, I’ll say ‘goodnight’.”

“Goodnight, Granger.” He waited until she closed her eyes before following suit with a sigh.

It seemed she had only dozed off when Hermione was rudely shaken awake. “Hermione, what in blazes are you doing sleeping out here? And where have you been? We’ve been looking all over the castle for you!”

Looking up blearily, Hermione saw a Ginny’s anxious face hovering closest, with Harry and Ron’s faces also peering down. She got up groggily and immediately noticed that the other sleeping bag was missing. The only other evidence that she had neither dreamed nor hallucinated last night’s conversation were the ashes from the fire she’d lit. 

Making up her mind that she didn’t feel up to recounting her fantastical story just yet, she said, “I needed some air. I guess I was so tired at some point that I just decided to sleep wherever I stopped. I don’t really remember how I ended up here.”

Ginny sighed. “Well, I guess we were all tired and recovering from the shock of it all. Better get you inside. The breakfast things are almost all gone. C’mon.”

Hermione returned the sleeping bag to its original form, tucked it into her pocket, and followed her friends back into the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prologue.


	2. Chapter 2

**  
_-e iπ_**

She was one of the first to arrive. Professor McGonagall greeted her warmly, and she quickly delved into preparations in the Great Hall for the evening event. The Ministry had deemed it appropriate to have the first Remembrance Ball at Hogwarts, to also celebrate the school’s re-opening after a year of repairs. The Board of Governors had set a curriculum for the households, paying particular attention to those of the young witches and wizards who would have missed their first year so that they might be prepared to enter their second year once the school re-opened in September. Weekly tutorial sessions were held at the Ministry to ensure goals were met, faulty spellwork corrected, and homework assignments collected. Flying lessons were given once a month at one of the Quidditch pitches in Belgium that its Ministry had kindly lent for the purpose. Potions was to be incorporated into the first two months of second year (Ron was extremely miffed when he learned that. “Why do they get to skip an entire year of Potions?”).

Of course, the to-be second years would need to be Sorted alongside the new group of first years. Hermione hoped that a year’s reflection would result in familial lessons of tolerance and forgiveness to go with the basic magical education.

At midday, having done all she could to decorate the Hall, Hermione decided to have lunch outside. She was heading toward one of the alcoves on the main floor when she paused, wondering.

She stepped into the front courtyard and toward the spot where, one year ago, she had been trapped within a magical portal with a Draco Malfoy from a different universe. There was a shimmer as she stepped across the threshold.

“There you are. Took you long enough. I’ve been here since dawn.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Good afternoon, Malfoy. How lovely to see you after a year’s absence? Have you been well?”

Draco huffed. “Good afternoon. It must be so nice to live in a world where the Dark Lord no longer exists.” There was a marked bitterness in his voice.

Hermione was about to retort when she checked herself. Removing the torn handkerchief from her pocket, she Transfigured it into a blanket. She sat and began unpacking the hamper she’d borrowed from the kitchens. She gestured the spot beside her.

Draco sat down and accepted a proffered thermos. They ate in silence.

“What’s been happening in your world, Malfoy? Is… is it a safe place to live?”

Draco eyed her for several minutes. “Several of your friend equivalents have escaped and are in hiding, including your other self. Those on your side who’ve agreed to submit to the new Ministry are now living as they used to, although they are subject to monthly check-ins. The rest are either in Azkaban or sequestered in an area outside of London, where they can be monitored. Merlin!” His temper suddenly flared. “To think my father believed we’d be living in a better world!” 

Hermione raised a brow. “The tyrant impinging on your freedoms, Malfoy?”

Draco harrumphed. “Fine. Rub it in. I deserved it, I suppose. I still don’t know why I bothered coming.”

“Reprieve?”

Draco snorted but didn’t disagree. He took another sip of tea. “And has it been all sunshine and rainbows in your world, Granger?”

Hermione grimaced. “It’s been a year of trials—for your side. And reparations. Hogwarts is only re-opening in September. It’s why I’m here. I didn’t expect the wormhole—”

“And yet, you brought food.”

Hermione grinned wryly. “I was curious.”

“How many lives have you used up?”

“Ha-ha.” She hesitated but then asked, “Are you and your mother safe, Malfoy?”

His eyes snapped to hers. He gave a tight nod. “For now. How-how is my other self faring?”

“He and his mum are still under house arrest. The term will be over by August. His dad is in Azkaban, serving a twenty-year sentence.”

“How magnanimous of your Ministry. You know the rebels face life imprisonment if caught. That goes especially for your other self and the Weasel King.” He smiled sardonically as Hermione glared. “Did you expect otherwise, Granger? We’re evil Slytherin scum, remember?”

Hermione gritted her teeth. “In my world, you didn’t give us up to the Death Eaters, even after we got caught and brought to Malfoy Manor. Because of that, Harry and I actually spoke in your defence during the trials. And your mum of this world saved Harry, which enabled him to defeat this Voldemort.” She ignored his full-body shudder. “I don’t think you can style yourself an evil Slytherin scum.”

Draco had gone slack-jawed. He proceeded to rub his face, removing all traces of snottery. “I envy the Draco in a universe where the Dark Lord was smothered to death as an infant.”

“But it can’t be all sunshine and rainbows for him. Maybe he never befriends a clever Muggle-born. Or maybe they are best friends and his grades suffer even more because there’s an even bigger rivalry that proves she’s better than him.”

Draco raised a brow. “Befriends?”

“We’ve shared a peaceful night’s rest and a meal without once drawing our wands. Can you say that of all your friends? Sorry, I should call them ‘allies’. Slytherins, so I’m assured, don’t make friends.”

“ _Touché!_ Fine, I concede that our acquaintance has gotten past the animosity. There are possibilities toward true civility.” He hesitated. “I would not be averse to such an outcome.”

Hermione stared open-mouthed.

“Don’t turn Hufflepuff on me, Granger. I do have standards.”

A laugh escaped her and she blushed, mortified.

“So tell me, did William defeat Harold in 1066? Did we destroy the Spanish Armada? Did your Dumbledore fight against a wizard named Grindelwald?” he asked.

“Yes to all three. I see you’ve also been researching into the matter. What inexplicable anomalies about these events do your records show?”

“William’s court wizard claimed his deceased brother suddenly joined him in battle only to never be seen again. A portion of the Armada disappeared. Durmstrang burned to the ground after Grindelwald fell, by an unaccountable cause. The wild rumour is that Dumbledore’s brother was responsible, though nothing was ever proved. They rebuilt the school at a different site.”

“Was Karkaroff ever Headmaster of Durmstrang?”

“No. That pompous arse? Rabastan Lestrange took over.”

“So, despite differences in the timeline, there are points in which major magical battles created tears in the space-time continuum similar to what we’re experiencing. Was there any record of how long the portals stayed open?”

“If there were, none have survived. In yours?”

“Likewise. Although Dumbledore’s diary entries for that period have yet to be decoded. He placed a powerful charm.”

“Of course.” A silence. “D-did my other self succeed in killing him?”

“No.”

He sighed in relief.

“Is your Snape still alive?”

“Yes.”

“This Voldemort murdered him as part of his plan to master the Elder Wand.”

“What! Snape was never—”

“I know. You were.”

Draco gaped.

“Because you Disarmed Dumbledore.”

Draco pondered. His brow eventually cleared but he looked panicked. “Then the Dark Lord is now the master of the Elder Wand.”

“Maybe. Can… can you tell me how he defeated Harry?”

“They were duelling on this spot. It looked like Potter was going to win. But then that pet snake of the Dark Lord struck Potter.” He paused as Hermione wailed in dismay. “I’m sorry, Granger.”

Hermione wiped away angry tears. “And Voldemort demanded complete surrender after Harry...”

“Yes.”

Hermione buried her head in her hands. “Is-is Professor McGonagall still alive?” 

“Yes, though in hiding.”

“Who is Headmaster?”

“Umbridge.”

Hermione’s head snapped up. “What!”

“The Dark Lord was impressed with her brief tenure in Fifth and reinstated her.”

“ _God._ ”

“Muggle irreverence for the divine is quite astounding.”

“Are you saying you believe in an all-powerful deity?”

“Not as such. But I still wouldn’t violate one of his supposed edicts.”

“How superstitious of you.”

“Merely cautious. ’Tis foolish to scoff at that for which we cannot completely refute.”

“You need to read—never mind. That’s not important to our discussion. Does the Elder Wand obey Voldemort?”

“I don’t know. He’s gone back to using his usual wand. The Elder Wand is being kept in the Lestrange vault.”

“Oh. Well, at least it’s not being used for more bloodshed.”

“Huh! Seems house-elf magic can cross the threshold.” Draco gestured at the hamper, which had been refilled.

They partook of a second meal and then walked around to stretch their limbs. At Hermione’s suggestion, they also tested the barrier in a concerted effort to see if they could step outside it. To no avail. It seemed the barrier would appear and dissolve at fixed points in time. Its purpose was thus far unfathomable. That it had been created to contain the breach in space-time the previous year was obvious. Draco suggested the possibility that a residual memory of the wave of magic still lingered and reactivated upon the anniversary; he cited a quasi-intelligent magic surrounding his ancestral home that “knew” to protect the family at points of crisis. It was why the Unforgivables could not be inflicted on his parents and himself, even by the Dark Lord, while Voldemort and his Death Eaters occupied the manor.

Seeing as they had to wait it out, the two sat on the blanket once more.

“So, Malfoy, what sort of celebration is being planned for tonight in your world?”

Draco’s face darkened. “Revels. Raids of Muggle settlements. Harassing the Muggle-borns in the settlements. Anything and everything that can prove who is in power. I was going to barricade myself in the manor’s library if this portal failed to appear. The manor’s wards would hide me.”

“And… you’re sure you won’t be punished for failing to participate?”

“I’m sure my father will think of a way to ensure my absence won’t be remarked upon.”

“Are… did your parents notice your absence from last year? Or Voldemort?”

Draco winced. “No, thankfully. I told them I found the need to clear my head after the events of the day and fell asleep in one of the alcoves.”

Hermione gave a wry smile. “Actually, I was headed toward one of the alcoves for lunch but changed my mind.”

“Regretting that choice?”

“Not at all.” She grinned at his disbelief. “I was rather dreading the celebrations planned for tonight as well. Even though Voldemort is gone, I lost several friends in the battle last year. And as best friend of Harry Potter, I’ve been under a lot of scrutiny. Ron enjoys the spotlight, but I’d rather be left alone.”

“Well, at least Harry Potter is alive in your world.”

“True.”

They were silent, lost in thought of painful memories and wistful regrets of what-could-have-beens. 

Without realizing, they both dozed off.

The following morning, Hermione was once again shaken awake, this time by a concerned Susan Bones. She made a flimsy excuse, but as she walked into the Great Hall to grab some breakfast, she wondered if the magical barrier purposely lulled them to sleep so that they could not cross into each other’s worlds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year 1.


	3. Chapter 3

**1+1**

“Gorgons, Malfoy! You look awful! What happened in your world?” Hermione stepped forward and caught hold of him as he swayed. She nearly toppled over as she helped him sit. Luckily, she’d cast a Cushioning Charm, else his butt would be sore for weeks with that hard landing.  
She forced a thermos into his hands and watched intently as he imbibed a few sips.

“Good day, Granger. How lovely to see your swotty self after a year’s absence. I take it you have been well?” 

Hermione huffed. “Quite well, thanks. Are you in need of any healing potions? I don’t have that many supplies, but some of the basics I do have handy.”

“Thank you, no. I’m fine. Just… a busy morning. I was in a rush—” He suddenly coloured and pretended to require more refreshment.

Hermione’s heart gave a tiny flutter but she pretended not to have cottoned on. “I brought cold tongue. There’s a niçoise, if you’d rather have fish.” Malfoy, ever contrary, chose the roast beef sandwich. As they ate and once she felt him less cantankerous, she murmured, “I’m glad you came. I wasn’t sure…”

Draco paused mid-bite, furrowed his brow, but neither made eye contact nor responded. 

Unperturbed, Hermione said, “I’m sorry I said you looked awful just now.”

Draco choked. After recovering, his eyes streaming, he grudgingly bit out, “I’m sorry, too, for my ingratitude.”

Hermione gave a small smile. “Good day, Malfoy. It’s lovely to see you.” 

Draco snorted. “Charmed.”

“So, how was your morning?”

Draco sighed. “Please, Granger, we just called truce. Can’t we enjoy our luncheon without delving into the politics?”

Hermione raised a brow. “Very well. Then I’ll attempt the small talk. And you don’t get to complain about it. I’m terrible at it, but since we can’t talk about consequential things... My friend Neville has quite the green thumb and has recently cultivated a new variety of Flutterby bush that quivers in time to any music being played.”

“Why am I not surprised that your Schlongbottom’s also a plant freak.”

Hermione gasped with outrage. “What a horrible nickname! And where on earth did you pick up such a vulgar term?”

“What do you mean? It’s hardly any more vulgar than ‘stiffy’ or ‘knob’ or ‘todger’. Or must we be considerate of your womanly sensibilities and call it a ‘weenie’?”

She scowled. “I just didn’t think American slang would’ve been adopted by _your_ lot, that’s all.” 

“If I were to call it by the American terms, they’d be even more rude. It’s odd, now that you mention it, how their words are mostly derived from the French and Dutch.”

“Well, I suppose, having gained independence, they would want to distance themselves and borrow more from their immigrant populations.”

“Independence from what?”

“Us. Britain.” Her eyes widened. “Are-are you saying that America is still a colony of the United Kingdom in your world?”

“Hardly a colony. A part of the Commonwealth, certainly. Why, what’s different about your America?”

“They-they fought to cut ties with the UK. Formed their own country.”

“Really? How fascinating!” His expression swiftly darkened. “Then, your America escaped the clutches of the Dark Lord.”

“Yes, I suppose they did. Er, Malfoy, I don’t suppose you know much about Muggle history and the current geopolitical landscape so we can compare our worlds?” 

She gave a brief summary of how the Renaissance and Enlightenment led to the Industrial Revolution, touched on the French, American, and Russian Revolutions, and delineated the political instabilities that led to the two World Wars and the Cold War. She pointed out that Grindelwald’s rise to power and preachings about a new world order where wizards were superior parallelled those of Hitler’s desires for German domination and policies of genocide. To her astonishment, Malfoy was very well informed of the situation beyond his community. He noted the similarities (the Renaissance and the French Revolution) and explained how the differences resulted in only one Great War, which saw the rise of his world’s Hitler, and the current geopolitical structure wherein the Commonwealth of the British Empire and the Prussian Republic were the two world powers. He explained, with some embarrassment, that his family had always kept tabs on the Muggle world, if merely to point out how their struggles contrasted with the stability of the magical community and how that illustrated their inferiority. 

Hermione was quiet as she digested these new facts and marvelled at how interesting this alternate history was. She sighed. “Well, seeing as how we avoided discussing serious topics,” —She grinned as Draco snorted. —“I ought to tell you that the Malfoy and his mum of my world have been released from house arrest and are now living in France.”

A myriad of emotions flitted across his face. He nodded his thanks but seemed reluctant to discuss the matter. Knowing he had to return the favour, he said, “The Granger in my world is still free.”

Hermione sighed in relief. 

“But the Muggles and Muggle-borns aren’t faring so well. There have… we’re expected to go on senseless killing raids. And… this morning, I was part of a group targetting the orphanages around Muggle London. It’s sickening—I can’t—I managed to Portkey the ones in a small room on the top floor—almost got caught by Thicknesse, but I managed to convince him it was empty when I broke down the door.” He struggled to suppress his inner turmoil.

Hermione faltered in an attempt to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “That was a very brave thing you did, Malfoy.”

Draco grunted. “Don’t. I’m not your Saint Potty. Snape recruited me. Seems he’s been double-crossing the Dark Lord for years. Wouldn’t say what made him turn, but he’s promised that when the time’s right, he’ll get my parents and me safely to France. The family there will hide us.”

“Is that where you Portkey’d the children—to your French relatives?”

He nodded. Then sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “But I can’t always claim I couldn’t find anyone in the places I raid.”

“Well, what if you slipped them some Draught of the Living Death? Make it seem like you _Avada_ ’d them, then Portkey them out.”

Draco’s head snapped up and stared. Slowly, a smirk appeared. “That… that was almost Slytherin of you, Granger.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Slytherins don’t have exclusive claims to cunning and deception, you know.”

“I just assumed you were always above reproach, Granger.”

“Was the Hermione in your world ever caught breaking school rules with Harry and Ron?”

He made a face. “Always managed to get away every time. Even Snape couldn’t pin anything on them. Not with Dumbledore—”

She pretended not to notice his wince. “There you go. Who do you think managed to hold them back and stop them from bungling head-on into things?”

“Saint Granger.”

“Oh, shut it, Malfoy.”

“Or what? You’ll hex me? Sure the spell won’t ricochet off the invisible walls and hit you instead?”

“I could always slap you.” Her smile turned absolutely smug when he involuntarily shrank back. So, the other Hermione had also made him wary of her.

“You’re forever visiting violence upon my person!”

“You deserve it. You should watch your mouth.”

Draco scoffed. “Pots and kettles, Granger.”

Hermione stared in disbelief. He cocked an eyebrow. She sighed. Having been around a stubborn Ron, she knew to pick her battles.

“So, I take it that having taken over the Ministry, the Death Eaters have got rid of the Statute of Secrecy?”

Draco snorted. “The first thing they did after dissolving the Wizengamot. Or rather, replacing its members with their own numbers. The ‘trials’ are an absolute farce.” He sighed. “They’ve taken over the Muggle Ministry as well. The Muggle Minister is under the Imperius.”

Hermione gasped. “Then, they have access to all the information about where people live and work, bank account numbers, the transportation networks… oh f—fricassee, the nuclear weapons!”

“And what are nuclear weapons?” Draco asked in a sharp voice, noting her panic.

“I’m not entirely sure I understand it, but the… Muggles have found that by breaking apart the very fundamental building blocks that compose, well, all existing materials, they can harness an extremely powerful source of energy. And several of the countries in the Muggle world have used this to make, essentially, the strongest explosives ever. Think of it as a string of firecrackers in proportion to, say, a spider in terms of how much damage can result.”

Draco listened with increasing agitation. “Such a technology has been developed, though they call it by another term.” He struggled to recall. “Fission conversion, I believe, is the name. It is used to run all the Muggle contraptions.” He took a few breaths. “I do not believe they have weaponized it, but I shudder to think what the Dark Lord might do if he becomes aware of such a possibility.” 

Hermione stared. “But how is it possible that you never…” But she suddenly recalled their earlier conversation. “Of course. There wouldn’t’ve been an arms race between America and Russia because they don’t exist in the same way.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, thank god for small mercies.”

Draco rolled his eyes at her final comment. “We may have a crazy tyrant ruining our lives, but at least we don’t have crazy Muggles intent on ruining their own lives.”

Hermione huffed, forced to concede the point. “I wondered if the portal was open at other times of the year, but I don’t think so. I tried on significant and random dates, but there was nothing. I did ask a trusted friend in Deep Mysts if there was anything in their archive of experiments, but she doesn’t think so. She was intrigued by the idea, though, and did some extra reading, but the Ministry doesn’t seem to have records either.”

“Oh, Department of Mysteries. An appropriate nickname. I also tested for the portal’s presence. And while the manor’s library has records of the existence of such gateways, there is no mention of how to cross the threshold. I suppose the incident of the brother from another reality fighting in Hastings was an even more rare anomaly in the timeline.”

“Perhaps his was such an anomalous event that the two worlds are permanently sealed from one another.”

“Possibly.” He seemed irresolute but finally said, “You never told me how your Potter defeated the Dark Lord.”

“Seriously, Malfoy, you really should try and call him Voldemort.” She pretended not to notice the flinch. “Dumbledore said that fear of the name increases fear of the person. You’d be able to think of solutions with a clearer head.”

It took him several tries, but he finally managed. “How did Potter defeat V-v-voldemort?”

Hermione gave a brief account. And expanded when it was obvious he’d never heard of Horcruxes, even as a concept. He was horrified, apparently understanding the symbolism of both the number seven and the consequence of splintering a soul so many times. “No wonder Aunt Bella is such a lunatic,” was a passing comment. 

“So, if we hope to ever permanently rid our world of V-voldemort, we’ll need to kill that snake.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps in your world, Voldemort never made his snake into a Horcrux. What you need to first find out is if he created Horcruxes—I don’t see how he wouldn’t try every possibility of achieving immortality, but there’s a chance that a completely different means exists in your world. Whatever form this tool of immortality takes, figure it out, find out how many there are, and destroy them, if they haven’t already been got rid of. Or if there were new ones created after the duel.”

“I’ll speak to Snape. My mum is too confined in the manor to be able to help search, though she can look for clues on what these objects might be.”

“Good luck, Malfoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year 2.


	4. Chapter 4

**0011**

“I can’t believe the nerve of them! _I’m_ the Muggle-born, yet they think _they_ are more clear on Muggle politics? There’s a reason Kingsley made _me_ Deputy Head of Magical-Muggle Relations. It’s because of _us_ that the Statute of Secrecy is still intact!”

“The Wizengamot is a bunch of entitled morons who are losing their grips on actual power within their departments and areas of influence, and this is how they justify their continued fossilized existence.”

Hermione’s ranting mood was briefly derailed by this new perspective. She scowled. “They would never survive a term if they held elected offices. The media scrutiny alone would have them crying for their nanny-elves by the end of the first week.”

“If you really want them to vote in favour of your rebuilding project, you need to show them what they seek to gain. Bureaucratic codgers are normally motivated by two things: money or fame. Or some combination of both. In this case, fame will get you further. Names in print, Orders of Merlin—”

Hermione growled. “For fixing the damage caused by a wizarding war? Over my dead body!” She breathed deeply. “But I get your point. I’ll talk to my Department Head and see what he thinks will best entice them.” She grinned. “Seems there’s some merit to growing up surrounded by pillocks and tossers.”

Draco sniffed. “Biting the hand that feeds you is hardly lady-like.”

Hermione snorted. “Am I supposed to be offended? Try again.”

“Aren’t Gryffindors supposed to honour life debts?”

Hermione snorted so hard she almost choked. “You consider _that_ a life debt? Then you owe me at least two dozen, from all the meals to the advice on how to defeat Voldemort. Good to see your reaction to the name has significantly diminished. Have you been practising at home?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “There’s a taboo on the name. But I’ve been saying it in my head,” he admitted grudgingly.

Hermione beamed. “See? Not such a terrifying monster.”

“If there’s anything worse than a crazy Voldemort, it’s a smug Gryffindor.”

“We couldn’t possibly hold a candle to arrogant arsebadgers such as your slimy, scrotty self.”

Draco’s lips twitched in amusement. “Finally improving your cursive language, I see. Dare I ask from whom you’ve been taking lessons?”

“Pansy Parkinson. She’s dating Harry.”

Draco looked gobsmacked. Hermione smirked. He struggled to find words and failed.

“They hit it off at last year’s Remembrance Ball, apparently. Wish I’d been there to witness.”

“I swear if he hurts her, I’ll tear apart the entire multiverse for his hide.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Empty threat. You can’t even get out of this enclosure.”

“Weasel King is still alive in my world. Bet the other Draco could find a means to get into a fight with your Weasel.”

Hermione glared. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Love conquers all or some such shite.”

Hermione sputtered. “You deserve another swipe from Buckbeak!” she declared without thinking and was astonished when Draco grimaced and unconsciously rubbed his upper arm. 

“No chance of that. He’s too preoccupied pecking or clawing Muggles to death.”

“What!”

Draco had the grace to look embarrassed. “They’ve captured all the Hippogriffs and send Muggle prisoners into their cages to be tortured.”

Hermione was speechless with rage. 

“Most of the magical creatures have been rounded up and made to do similarly degrading tasks. The merfolk are supplying all the fish and seafood. There’s a black market trade in the pearls they fetch from the far corners of the ocean.”

Hermione finally let out a screech. Draco covered his ears and soon had to cast a Bubblehead Charm coated with a _Silencio_ to dampen the noise as she ranted. He waited a full five minutes after she slumped in exhaustion before removing the Charm, just in case.

“Please don’t tell me they’ve got the centaurs pulling carriages or ploughing the fields,” she said in a hoarse, defeated voice.

“No. They are some of the few that evaded capture. The dragons, American Thunderbirds, and African Erumpents proved too difficult to even attempt to subjugate. And the Veela have managed to escape. So have the murtlaps, amazingly.”

Hermione’s eyes gleamed slightly at this news, but she did not comment. 

“So, Granger, all the house-elves sporting the latest fashion in your world?”

Hermione glared. “All the house-elf heads on plaques in _your_ world?”

Draco rolled his eyes but grinned. “And who would serve us hand and foot then?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the amount of arse-kissing required by Voldemort, I figured it has a lovely domino effect for those in the inner circle.”

“ _Touché!_ Ironically, I’ve never seen the elves happier than they are now, in abject servitude to evil ones who _would_ put their heads on plaques if they failed to please. And what an utterly devious thing to do—I presume someone in your world has perpetrated this atrocity.”

“There may be one in your world doing worse things that you’re merely unaware of.”

“Possibly. Can’t say I know the old families on the continent. But I’ve certainly not seen it among the ten or so families in our circle of acquaintance.”

“No Muggle blood on their hands?”

Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Now you’re just trying to pick a fight. Very dishonourable behaviour for a Gryffindor.”

“And how many innocent Muggles have you saved in the past year?”

Draco huffed. “Have I told you that Voldemort has insisted on changing the dress code so that one’s blood status is obvious by the colour of robes one wears? The Death Eaters are naturally still wearing their black battle gear, as you see.” He gestured his garb. “The pure-bloods must wear shades of blue, the half-bloods yellow, and the Muggle-borns and Muggles brown.”

Hermione scoffed. “Why am I even surprised? And what about Slytherin green? I’d’ve thought the pure-bloods would jump to at the chance to show their allegiance.”

“Oh, green is reserved for formal occasions.”

“Oh, silly me.”

“Indeed. Red, naturally, has been banned outside of Hogwarts. Voldemort appreciates irony.”

“If only he appreciated life and compassion a bit more.”

Draco snorted. Then in a serious voice, he told her that they had made some headway in discovering whether Horcruxes existed in his world and whether Voldemort was using them to ensure immortality. In short, yes. And they’d narrowed down the most likely containers of the fragments of soul. There were seven in total. There was no sure way of knowing if these were the original seven or if they were newly created. For now, they were intact but under constant and close scrutiny by Draco and Snape. If the opportune moment arrived, they would have easy access to them.

Hermione promised that if she could locate one or more, she would bring him the venom-coated Basilisk fangs that she and Ron had used. 

“So, Granger, what delightful assortment of comestibles are on offering today?”

Hermione handed over the hamper and once again felt that strange flutter when their hands accidentally touched during the exchange. She heard herself stammer her request when asked what she wanted and quickly took a quick bite into her sandwich but slowed down when her gran’s age-old admonishment to eat more slowly and daintily sounded in her head. She almost choked and hastily grabbed for her thermos of tea. Unfortunately, she _did_ choke on it. She felt Draco pat her back and was too mortified to look him in the eye even after she had her breathing under control.

They sat in companionable silence to consume lunch.

“According to my mum, I first manifested my magic at age five by splattering my great-uncle Diomasach with my birthday cake. And you? What havoc did you wreak?”

Hermione was so astonished that she gaped at him. Unperturbed, Draco went on to describe how excited the whole clan had been at the incident. Great-Uncle Diomasach was a grumpy miser and there had been a few tense seconds, but he laughed so heartily he spread the splatter to his nearby companions. Hermione chuckled as she imagined the ruckus.

The remainder of the afternoon was passed sharing childhood memories and laughing over them. 

By dinner, Draco scooted over to sit beside her and ensured their hands touched as often as possible as they set out the provisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year 3.


	5. Chapter 5

**log 41024**

There was a shimmering, akin to a water cascade, and before their eyes, the barrier that separated their worlds parted and formed the enclosure, whose physical walls soon blended into the environs. The sky above burst into cheer as the sun rose. 

Not that they noticed. As soon as they’d removed their Disillusionment Charms, they embraced and were caught up in kissing one another. Having only shared that one kiss, one year was far too long to wait for a repeat. Finally, breathless, they smiled at one another.

“Hello, Malfoy.”

“Hello, Granger. Shall we make ourselves comfortable?” He removed an object from his pocket and spelled it to enlarge into a loveseat. He settled her into his lap and proceeded to kiss her again.

“I missed you, Malfoy.”

“I did—Oh, hello. You must be Crookshanks. A pleasure to meet you.” Draco extended his hand, palm up, toward the orange furball that had leaped onto the arm of the chair and was fiercely eyeing him. To Hermione’s astonishment, Crookshanks gave a purr and rubbed his chin against Draco’s palm. Beaming, Draco proceeded to scratch her pet behind the ears and smooth out the fur of his back.

“Oh! Hello, Cassiopeia! I’m so glad you joined us again! I brought some proper treats today.” Draco’s pet had landed on his shoulder. Hermione stroked the eagle owl’s beak and was rewarded with a hoot of contentment. 

When the pets were satisfied with the undivided attention received, they proceeded to head off to amuse themselves. Crookshanks explored the space while Cassiopeia had a light snack upon her perch.

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or angry that he took to you so quickly. He still swipes at Ron whenever they’re in a room together.”

“Weasel Kings don’t deserve respect. Seems a multi-universal law. Ow!” He grabbed both her hands so she couldn’t inflict any more violence and kissed her. “Besides, isn’t his approval proof that you have good taste?”

“He took to Harry right away.”

Draco frowned and drew back. “You’re comparing me to Potty?!”

Hermione smirked. “You’ve been bringing Muggle and Muggle-born families to safety. I’d say there’s _some—mmmmphhhh_ …”

“Swotty know-it-all Gryffindors will be the death of me. The other one is causing all sorts of trouble. At least, I assume she’s the one behind the rumours of rebellion.”

Hermione grinned. “What have the rabble been up to that’s got Death Eater knickers in a twist?”

Draco humphed. “Sending surreptitious pamphlets about standing up for individual rights and freedoms. I only knew about these by chance because Snape got a hold of one—I’m sure they’ve been very careful to whom these are being disseminated. Then there’s the havoc wreaked at the Ministry by replacing the quills with joke ones that either splotch official decrees or cause raucous misspellings. One managed to rewrite an entire speech so that it insulted the Senior Undersecretary’s mother. The Weasel twins, I’m sure. There have also been other, more subtle subversions. For example, there has been a shortage of seafood delicacies such as scallops. The suppliers are adamant they have none in stock and the merfolk are equally adamant that they have caught plenty to feed the entire Commonwealth.”

Hermione was positively radiant. “The jokes are the twins for sure. And the pamphlets sound like something I would do. But the shortages of foodstuff sounds more like something only those born pure-blood would know to suggest. And I think I might have a guess as to who the ringleader is for that.” She told him about the prophecy and how it could have applied to Neville. “During our quest to defeat Voldemort, Neville was one of the main perpetrators causing trouble at Hogwarts, right under the Carrows’ noses. Having him as the leader of the rebellion makes sense, even if no prophecy exists in your world. Like it or not, they are not so liberal that they would choose to follow a Muggle-born female.”

Draco agreed. “Though I’m not entirely certain I could in good conscience take orders from Schlongbottom. Ow!”

“Be nice and he’ll even let you take everything in your bank vaults when you flee to France.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Do you think our most valuable assets are molding away in an underground stronghold controlled by goblins?” 

“Are you certain the manor is as secure and impenetrable as you think? It has, after all, allowed Voldemort and other Death Eaters within its walls.”

“If my father were still loyal to Voldemort, then perhaps I would be concerned.”

“Has he truly renounced his stance?”

“Possibly not entirely regarding pure-blood power and influence in our world. But he would rid himself of his Dark Mark if he could.”

“And you’re not under any threat from Bellatrix?”

“She is too involved in taking Umbridge’s place at the Ministry to bother about us. There’s one thing to be said about conceit: you are easily deceived by acts of subservience.”

“Well, you’d know.”

Draco raised a brow. “How many times did you compromise your morals to keep Potty and Weasel King out of trouble because they talked you into getting involved in their reckless adventures?”

Hermione gave a wry grin. “Fine. Ten points to Slytherin.”

Draco smirked. “So tight-fisted with points. That must be worth at least one hundred, given how many times you were suckered.”

Hermione made a face. “How is the Muggle side faring?”

“The Death Eaters have learned how to use the differizer to track the movements of every individual still living in the Commonwealth. It has become increasingly difficult to smuggle them out. Snape and I have had to give up. But the rebels seem to be finding a means to continue the work because the Ministry minions are forever complaining about new names that have dropped out of the system.”

“Differizer?”

“The differential analyser, one of the devices the Muggles use to store and transmit data.”

“Oh! We call them ‘computers’.”

Draco pondered. “A better name for them.”

“I wonder how they’ve managed to get the people out of the country. Certainly not by magical means because if the Death Eaters are aware of the problem, they’ll be looking for the traces left behind.”

“Indeed. If Snape has any theories, he hasn’t shared.”

“Slytherin to the core.”

“And still alive because he is.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes. You haven’t told him about his counterpart being dead, have you?”

“Have you told your dim besties that one of them is dead in a different world?”

“Fine, that was a d—thoughtless. He’d want to try and help if he knew, you know. Harry. He can’t help it.”

Draco snorted. “Ignorance is bliss, then, for all parties.”

“I might try and talk to Neville though, see if I can find out some useful suggestions on how the other Neville might structure the rebellion. And what weaknesses need to be patched.”

“See where he’s likely to have hid the supply of Swiss chocolates.”

Hermione laughed. “Your lot must be very grumpy.”

“ _My_ lot?”

“You aren’t a rebel.”

“Oh, so it’s still ‘us and them’. Aren’t you afraid of catching germs from the evil— _mmmphhhh_ …”

“Lighten up, Malfoy. You know I know you’re not one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Would I be in your lap otherwise?”

“Perhaps you have a thing for wicked men.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You flatter yourself. And only gullible, brainless chits would find wicked men attractive.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Aunt Bellatrix.”

Hermione chuckled. “Didn’t you just get out from under her thumb?”

“I’ll tell her sister, then. Who thinks very highly of you, by the way.”

“Well, Andromeda has always been a great believer in the good in everyone. She accepted Lupin unreservedly.”

Draco gave her an exasperated look. “If you were Pansy, I would call you on your disingenuity. I meant her _other_ sister.”

“Oh!” Hermione blushed. “Well, I’ve not had much interaction with your other mum, but from what I’ve gathered, she’s quite a force of nature. I expect your mum isn’t any different.”

Draco snorted. “Force of nature is right. Father always teases that she should’ve Sorted into Gryffindor, to which she usually retorts that he’d never have dared ask her out and where would he be now.”

Hermione laughed. But then she sobered and said wistfully, “I wish we could invite people across the barrier.”

“No matter how you think you’ve worn me down, I still have no intention of making good with Tweedle-Duff and Tweedle-Dunce. Ow!”

“I was thinking it’d be nice to introduce you to Mrs. Harry Potter.”

Draco’s eyes bulged. “She _married_ that—” His self-preservation kicked in just in time. He sensed that whatever he said would be reported to his alternate best friend in due time, and if ever a means could be found to bitch-slap him across an entire universe, other-Pansy would figure it out.

Desperate to change topics, he said, “The Ministry codgers still giving you a hard time?”

Hermione huffed. “Not as such. To their credit, some of the young witches and wizards from the privileged old families have taken an interest in helping shape this new world, so they’ve joined the ranks of the Ministry. Unfortunately, some habits are ingrained, and they are forming their own spheres of influence, which aren’t always aligned with Ministry policy.”

“Got the house-elves sporting ‘how may I help you?’ badges when they serve the tea? Coerced the Gringotts goblins to insist on customer satisfaction surveys after every transaction?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “They insist that afternoon tea is essential to their well-being and will drop whatever task they’re doing. Given that this occurs between three and five in the afternoon and they pack up for the day subsequently, productivity has been quite affected.”

Draco snorted. “Have any of the Department Heads thought to implement deadlines for the following morning at 9:00am? They’d be forced to either work late or get into work earlier.”

“Oh, we can’t—”

“The Spanish siesta works on the understanding that the end of the workday gets shifted to accommodate the midday break.”

Hermione’s face suddenly split into a huge grin. “I’ll suggest it to Kingsley after our debriefing tomorrow afternoon. Of course,” she added slyly, “I’ll have to give credit to your other best friend.”

“So long as you don’t credit her husband.”

“She’s been thinking up baby names for her eventual children. I should suggest she name her son after her best friend.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Such a distinguished-sounding name. We should all aspire to be named after Athenian oppressors.”

“Better than being named after a tyrant who formed his own religion just to divorce his first wife.”

“Hmph! At least he wouldn’t be taught bigoted ideas about worth and how to manipulate people.”

“No, he’ll just be taught to jump first and think later. Or not, seeing as he’ll likely have a concussion.”

“Well,” Hermione said huffily, “I’m sure his mum will make sure that he doesn’t grow up so reckless.”

Draco smirked. “Or she’d make sure to overrun the house with girls. Potter would be trussed right and tight then!”

“You’d deserve that exact fate!”

“Not a chance! The Malfoys have always managed to produce a male heir to continue the line.”

“Did they always manage to produce the male heir through natural means and with their legal spouses?”

Draco glared. “We have a tapestry that records the names of new members and from whom they were begotten. It cannot be fooled into naming another as the sire or dam.”

“Oh! That’s interesting! But the Black tapestry has names burned out of it. If the record is impossible to be tampered with, how—”

“’Tis still made of material that can be destroyed. If a spell can take a life, surely removing bits of thread can’t be that difficult.”

“I suppose. Wish we could find a way of unsticking her annoying portrait and putting it in a back room somewhere.”

Draco snorted. “Great-Aunt Walburga. All families possess such a Minger Lisa. And aren’t I so blessed to have two.”

“Oh?”

“Father’s second cousin thrice removed, Anaideia. She shaved man and beast alike who left so much as a split-end of a hair on her carpet.”

“Such a charming person. Did she have any offspring?”

“Thankfully, none. Though it’s quite astonishing that her husband managed to outlive her. Didn’t think the old hag would allow death to claim her. ’Course, her portrait must’ve used mercury-based paint because the vitriol is even worse.”

Hermione shook her head. “Thank goodness we can choose our friends.”

“And snogging partners.”

Hermione grinned and leaned closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year 5.


	6. Chapter 6

**√49**

“So Snape has given the replicas and Basilisk fangs to the other Granger as well as the clues for the scavenger hunt for the real Horcruxes.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Of _course_ it would be too difficult to just give the locations. It’s a dangerous enough task to extract and destroy them as is without needing to solve the riddle of where to even find them.”

Draco sniffed. “The success of the hunt is just as important as the actual destruction. If there’s no effort and hard work involved, then having the enemy ruin Voldemort’s chance at immortality loses its potency. Snape and I may as well dispose of them ourselves. It would certainly save the hassle.”

Hermione looked chastised. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Having one of the rebels eradicate the Horcruxes gives a sense of justice to the endeavour.”

“Dost mine ears deceive me? Would you repeat that first sentence again?”

“Prat! I can admit to being wrong, unlike some obstinate gits I know.”

“If ever he heard you, Weasel King would be so hurt to hear you thus describe him. Ow!”

“How can you be sure that the rebels have succeeded? It’d look suspicious if you were seen checking out the locations where the Horcruxes are hidden.”

“The replicas come with tracking devices. We can trace their movements and also point the hunters in the right direction if they misinterpret the clues.”

“But magical tracking can be detected.”

“We’re using Muggle devices.” At Hermione’s astonishment, he replied, with some chagrin, “Apparently in America, they’ve figured out how to prevent magic from interfering with electronics for decades. Our lot just… refused to adopt the practice. The Ministry is desperate to play catch-up now. Luckily for Snape and me, none of Voldemort’s minions have knowledge of the advanced espionage equipment available, so they’re unlikely to detect the bugs we’ve planted on them. And that allows us to also track their movements.”

Hermione looked envious. “There’ve been some amazingly portable handhelds coming out in recent years that I really wish I could introduce to our Ministry. They’d revolutionize how we communicate at the office as well as improve the speed at which we can accomplish a lot of the most tedious and time-consuming tasks, like payroll and inventory.”

“Still depending on parchment and abacuses, are they?”

Hermione sighed. “Too right. It’s so stupid. By the way, what’s in the container?”

“Oh yes.” Draco retrieved the box from the side table and opened it to reveal several glass vials. “It’s a mark of how much trust Snape has in a person he’s never met. These are his memories of everything he’s done regarding putting the rebels on the scent of the Horcruxes. Before the end of our meet, I’ll be extracting the pertinent memories and adding them to the collection. Extra precaution in case Voldemort interrogates either of us.”

Hermione replaced the lid and carefully returned it to the tabletop. “I swear I’ll guard it with my life.”

“Didn’t your mum teach you it’s rude to curse? Ow!”

“How is the Neville in your world? While I have every confidence in him, it’s a great burden.”

“He’s just declared himself the leader of the Rebellion. Has been calling for people to join the ranks. I suspect that the support has been pouring in because the rate of disappearances of Muggles, magical creatures, and other ‘enemies of the state’ has increased exponentially these two weeks since his claim.”

“Go, Neville!”

“Yeah, yeah. Gryffindork courage and all that.”

“And have you and your parents made preparations to move to France? Once the resistance gains momentum, war is going to break out. You wouldn’t want to be caught in the crossfire.”

“How sweet. You _do_ care! Ow! Stop that! Mum will think I got beat up by Voldemort’s lot again.”

“A slap like that doesn’t even hurt, you big baby, never mind leave a mark. And what do you mean ‘get beat up again’? What have they got you doing now?”

“Brewing nasty potions to feed to prisoners. I managed to convince them that it was just one bad batch, that the ingredients they supplied were faulty. If they ever found out I’ve been doctoring all of them…”

Hermione kissed him. “That was a very brave thing to do, and right under their noses.”

“I’d’ve been walloped by Snape if I botched the job.”

“Aw, you poor thing.”

“Save your pity for the Weasel Kings across all dimensions. How some have managed to survive infancy is astounding. They certainly need all the dumb luck and support they can get. Ow!”

He suddenly removed Hermione from his lap and raided her hamper. “I’m starved! Skipped breakfast this morning.”

Hermione huffed but joined him in the midday meal.

As they ate, a thought occurred. “Could you somehow pass word to the rebels that they should practise their Occlumency skills? No one should approach the Horcruxes unguarded. And they should avoid carrying the Horcrux near their skin for long periods of time.”

Draco nodded. “It would make sense that those bits of Voldemort would be just as manipulative as the original bastard.”

“Yes. And somehow, they’re even nastier.”

He looked at her sharply. “What did it do to you?”

“Nothing too harmful. But I kept having these doubts while wearing it about whether I truly belonged in the magical world. And whether Harry and Ron truly saw me as a friend or if they only put up with me because they needed my help.”

Draco grasped her chin and looked steadily at her. “You’re an incredible person, Granger. Exasperating most of the time, but a good person to have on one’s side when facing the terrors of life.”

“That’s… thank you, Malfoy. Even for the disparaging bits.”

“Would you rather I said you’re brilliant and beautiful and angelic and all such rot the poets like to spew about summer’s day or stars or sneeze-inducing fragrances?”

Hermione chuckled. “You’re such a romantic, Malfoy.”

He grinned. “And you love me just the way I am.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It’s the Stockholm Syndrome talking.” At his confusion, she explained. 

In mock outrage, he said, “So, if you were captured by Dolohov and made a sex slave in one of his whorehouses, you’d end up falling for him?”

“Not bloody likely! He nearly killed me with that curse when we snuck into the Ministry to retrieve the prophecy.”

“Your indignation is so adorable.”

She humphed. “Not nearly as charming as when you whine about your Pansy besting you at a game of wits.”

He scowled. “She cheats.” He was silent for several minutes. Finally, with a softened expression, he said, “I miss her. She escaped with her husband to Oceania last month. Even before Schlongbottom made his declaration, those who’ve remained neutral were being pressed to confess their loyalties.”

“Either us or them.”

“Indeed.”

“So, there’s now no one to make you toe the line?”

“I’ve got you.”

“Oh? Have I become your conscience? Do you ask ‘what would Hermione do’ before embarking on a task? I’m flattered.”

“Witch.”

“Born that way. Just like you were born a snotty little git— _mmmphhhh_ …” When they paused for breath, she said, “Is that the best you can do now? Shut me up when you have no witty comeback?”

He growled and pushed her down onto the sofa...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year 7.


	7. Chapter 7

**1111111111 ÷ 123456789**

Draco eyed Hermione appreciatively. She was dressed in a frock of emerald green. She held out both hands and he brought them to his lips. “You look lovely.”

Hermione beamed and tiptoed for a kiss. When they parted, she said, “Close your eyes.”

He quirked an eyebrow but acquiesced. He was led toward the middle of the space and then told to sit. “This is some test of trust, isn’t it? After all this time, I’d’ve thought I wouldn’t need to prove—”

“Oh, shut it, Malfoy. It’s not what you think.”

He felt two warm, heavy bundles placed into his arms. Not waiting for her command, he opened his eyes… and stared down at two tiny, beautiful pairs of eyes looking up at him in wonder. 

“Say hello to Daddy.”

The babies gurgled a greeting and smiled, clearly recognizing the kinship. Still, Draco sat, staring. Suddenly, for the first time in his life, he burst into tears. He hugged his children to his chest and pressed endless kisses about their precious heads and faces.

When he finally looked up at Hermione, his face was a mess of tears. She gently wiped away the streaks, helped him clean his nose, then kissed him. 

“They were born on January 15. The Healer says it’s amazing that I managed to carry them for as long as I did—almost full term, which isn’t common with multiple births. And they each weighed just under six pounds. We were recently in for a follow up visit, and the Healer says they’re doing extremely well. And they have your eyes.”

“I love you.”

Hermione smiled. “I love you, too. I had to name them without your input, and I didn’t follow the naming conventions that I know most pure-blood families of your ilk adhere to—”

“Please tell me you didn’t name them Harry and Veronica. Ow! You’re setting a bad example to the children.”

“ _I’m_ —at least _I_ never pushed my best friend into the lake simply because she spoke truth about my ridiculous outfit.”

“Well, _I_ wasn’t the one who Polyjuiced myself into a cat.”

Hermione huffed. “I knew I shouldn’t’ve told you that story.”

“I bet you were a sexy kitten.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Nice try, Malfoy.” But she couldn’t help smiling.

“So, are you going to perform the proper introductions?”

“Right. Daddy, may I introduce Valerie and William?” Hermione’s smile broadened when Draco gravely acknowledged the children without a hint of disapproval. “I haven’t given them middle names. I thought…”

Draco deliberated. “I’ve always liked the names Elise and Geoffrey.”

“Valerie Elise and William Geoffrey…” Hermione nodded, pleased. The twins chimed in with their acceptance. 

Draco stood and placed the babes in their mother’s arms. He extracted a small penknife and made a small cut on his right thumb. He proceeded to draw the rune of “protection” on the foreheads of his twins and intone a short chant in a language Hermione didn’t recognize but sounded French. The runes were absorbed under the skin when the chant was completed. At her questioning look, Draco explained that it was an old family tradition that ensured the patriarch could always locate his children in times of peril. He spelled the wound closed and was startled when Hermione kissed it. 

He gently tugged Hermione onto his lap as he reseated himself. 

They proceeded to catch up on news of their worlds and of all the “firsts” in Valerie and William’s lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year 9.


	8. Chapter 8

**3! + 2(2!)**

She waited. 

The tingle of magic that she usually felt when she crossed the invisible threshold was absent. But she likely hadn’t sensed it because she was busy chatting with Val and Will. And they were being extremely well-behaved as they waited with her.

The sun was clearly over the horizon now. The bright pastels of pinks, oranges, butter-yellows, veined with cerulean, stretched and mingled and glowed. Yet, she waited.

But when the hues of dawn finally faded into pale blue and the air remained as still and silent, she finally collapsed in a heap of tears. Not understanding her distress but clearly affected, the twins cried with her.

She slowly regained awareness of her surroundings. And realized she was enveloped by two strong pairs of arms. Even without looking into their concerned faces, she knew that Harry and Ron had found her. 

Taking several deep breaths, she finally asked, “Where are the twins?”

“They’re inside the castle, probably in McGonagall’s office,” Harry replied. “She got the elves to bring up something to settle them. C’mon, Hermione, let’s get you up and inside.”

It took a few tries before she was steady on her feet. Supported on both sides, she slowly made it through the front doors and into the Entrance Hall. She paused to glance about. She’d not been inside since its reopening. She’d always gone straight home after her yearly pilgrimage. Thoughts of her yearly rendez-vous threatened tears, and she resolutely turned her attention on reassuring her friends, who’d clearly dropped everything to come to her aid. Ron looked like he’d been roused out of bed, his pajamas peeking out from the robes he’d hastily donned. Harry was dressed in his Auror robes, and she vaguely recalled there was another trial at the Wizengamot this morning.

“The Lestranges…” she inquired.

“Can go hang!” Ron groused. He was still bitter about the slight limp inflicted by Rabastan during his capture. 

“Their hearing has been postponed after Rudolphus tried to take out his guard,” Harry informed. “I was just about to grab a tea when I got McGonagall’s Patronus through the Floo.”

They arrived at the gargoyle. Harry and Ron looked at one another blankly. But it was obvious they were expected because the stone creature came alive and bid them enter. The spiral staircase appeared.

Harry assisted Hermione into the chair beside the children, who were conversing, in their limited way, with the elves who were feeding them. “Mama,” they chorused when they saw her. She pressed kisses to their foreheads and thanked the elves, who wiggled their ears in delight and embarrassment. 

She then greeted the Headmistress, who was sat behind her desk with a look of concern. In her usual, crisp voice, Professor McGonagall bid her to partake of the breakfast that she’d brought and which had been retrieved while Hermione had been indisposed. Ron did not need to be told to help himself. McGonagall graciously accepted some tea.

When she felt sufficiently recovered and able to recount the truth about this part of her life that had heretofore been kept secret, Hermione told them about the chance discovery of the portal, the yearly meetings with Malfoy, a brief summary about the situation in his world, and the identity of the father of her children. Finally, she revealed the reason for her earlier state of distress.

A stunned silence followed as her audience processed the information she’d divulged. Even the portraits were thoughtful. 

The Headmistress finally said, “I had always wondered about the sense of a perturbation in the air that I felt every year on this day. I never bothered to investigate, assuming it was a mere residual of the memories from that day, and, in fact, until your tale, Ms. Granger, I’d never connected the feeling with this particular date. But there have been no impressions of danger or agitation today—there are sensors that alert the staff. We must hope that, whatever the cause, the disappearance of the portal is a good sign that nothing untoward has occurred in this other world.”

Hermione gave a weak smile, thankful for the kindness. 

“So, ’Mione, are any of my, er, other family still alive in this other world?”

She squeezed Ron’s hand. “They all survived The Battle and are stalwart supporters of the rebellion. The other Fred and George even get orders from the continent for their joke products. And this connection has helped the rebellion smuggle people to safety. The other Bill has somehow figured out a way to remote Portkey those under protection using the Weazies inventory. Malfoy only knows that, like the Polyjuice Potion, he uses a small bit like hair from the person to trigger the Portkey.”

“Remarkable!” McGonagall commented.

“Wait ’til Bill hears about this! Um, that is, if it’s ok…”

“I’ll tell all of them this Sunday during Brunch.” She hugged both her best friends. “Thank you for being so supportive, even in the face of my refusal to reveal the identity of the father.”

“The eyes and the pointy chins should’ve given us a clue, but then again, the balance of probability…”

“I’m sorry. You’re all taking this so well. I should’ve trusted that you wouldn’t…”

“Oh, I dunno, ’Mione. If you’d just sat us down at The Burrow and told us a Malfoy from another world got you up the duff, I’d’ve probably dragged you to Mungo’s to get your head examined. Ow!”

“You don’t need to apologize, Hermione. If you hadn’t told us the whole story, I wouldn’t’ve believed you either. And whatever my history with the Malfoy in this world, this other one sounds a decent bloke.”

“Thanks, Harry. I teased him about his Gryffindor tendencies once and nearly had my head bitten off.”

“Now _that’s_ a Malfoy I recognize!” Ron quipped.

“Mama! Finished!” 

Hermione thanked the elves once more and cleaned the twins up. “I think I’d better get them home. Professor, thank you for your kind hospitality. If-if the portal reopens, would you notify me?”

“Of course, my dear. Know that you can always come to me if you have any difficulties.”

“Thank you, Professor. Harry, Ron, thanks. I’m fine to get home. You get back to whatever you had planned.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hermione. We’ll see you home first. Bye, Professor.”

When they’d ensured the little family was settled safely in their flat, Harry and Ron Floo’d away. But no sooner had Hermione put things away that she heard a tap-tap-tap at the window. She opened it to an elegant eagle owl bearing a letter.

She read in astonishment an invitation from Narcissa Malfoy to tea at the Manor. Hope sprung: could Malfoy have somehow sent a message to her through the ancestral home? She hastily wrote a missive of acceptance for the owl to bring back. She then entreated Molly to look after the twins, which was granted with delighted alacrity. She Disapparated from the front lawn of The Burrow.

She sustained another surprise when Narcissa Malfoy opened the door and ushered her inside. Mrs. Malfoy led her into the conservatory, where a table laden with tea things waited. A delicate bone-china cup was handed to her after a polite inquiry as to how she took her tea.

“Ms. Granger, I will not waste your time with idle small talk. As you know, my son and I have been residing these few years in France. This morning, to my astonishment, I had a summons from the Manor. I was further astounded when I discovered the reason for the summons. My son assures me that he is as stunned by the revelation as I am.” She paused, uncertain of how to phrase her question. “How came you to be the mother of my grandchildren?”

Hermione’s teacup clattered. “They’re not—How exactly did you find out about the children?”

“We have a tapestry that is a representation of the family lineage from the first Malfoy who settled in this land.”

“I… see.” Hermione was silent for several minutes. “And… now that you know about them, what do you intend to do?”

Narcissa raised a brow. “I certainly do not intend on taking them from their mother’s care, if that is your concern.” Noting Hermione’s obvious relief, she added, “Although, if you will permit, I would like to be known to them and be a part of their lives.”

Hermione blinked. “But if your son denies that he’s fathered my children, how can you be sure that they are true Malfoys?”

“The tapestry is bespelled to recognize true heirs once they have been claimed by their fathers. The family has a ritual passed down from father to son—”

“The rune for ‘protection’ is writ onto their forehead and a chant in archaic French is used to embed it,” Hermione finished.

Narcissa nodded. Then, her face carefully blank, she inquired, “Did you perform an _Obliviate_ upon Draco, Ms. Granger?”

“No! I would never! Your son and I haven’t… The children aren’t his, or at least, not really… It’s complicated.” 

“I… see. I apologize for questioning your integrity, Ms. Granger, but you must see that this is all quite unexpected.”

“Yes, I know, and it’s not just you who’s received a shock today. I’m still trying to understand…” Hermione closed her eyes to better organize her thoughts. “Mrs. Malfoy, I suspect that there is a lot about history that is passed down among the old pure-blood families that never make it into the official history books. I’ve… always felt there were gaps whenever I looked into old manuscripts and documents, as if there were deliberate plots to suppress certain truths about the involvement of certain individuals from the record…” Narcissa gave an enigmatic smile but did not refute. Deciding she would ask Mrs. Malfoy to explain her coy expression at a later date, Hermione soldiered on. “So, is there anything passed down about another world, another universe from this one?”

“How in the world…” Narcissa’s eyes widened as she realized the underlying implication. “Yes, there has been speculation. My family has always attributed the disappearance of several members to that very possibility.”

“Well, it’s much more than a possibility.” Mentally encouraging herself, Hermione proceeded to give an account of events of the past few years, similar to that which she’d recounted earlier in the day. She then added a half-formed conjecture that perhaps the Malfoy tapestry had only learned of the existence of the twins because they had been considered heirs of the other Malfoy family until now. 

Narcissa sat back and considered her guest for long moments following the tale. Having come to a decision, she invited the young witch to the library, where she pulled a set of diaries and placed them into Hermione’s hands. “These are records kept by the lords and ladies of the manor and date back to the reign of William of Normandy. They account for the ‘missing’ history to which you alluded. You may peruse them or, should you choose to accept, return them upon your next visit.”

Hermione nodded, understanding the implied request. “If you are free, I’d love to bring the children tomorrow for tea.”

“I’d be delighted! Would you permit that my son be present? I’m sure, despite the uniqueness of the circumstance, he would like to be known to the children as well.”

“Um, yes, I suppose that’s only fair.”

“Until tomorrow, then, Ms. Granger. Or, perhaps, given the circumstance, I may call you Hermione? You must, in any event, call me Narcissa.”

“Yes, thank you, Narcissa.”

As arranged, Hermione arrived promptly the following day. The door opened and she came face to face with Draco Malfoy.

She stared. The features were achingly familiar, and yet, there was something different about this Malfoy from _her_ Malfoy. 

“Dada!”

The spell was broken, and a stunned Draco ushered her into the house. They stood, uncertain, in the foyer. Again, the twins decided for them, for Valerie stretched out her arms, wanting to be held. Without thinking, Draco reached for her and gasped when the little girl wound her arms about his neck and cuddled. He smiled and rubbed gentle circles upon the tiny back; Hermione was struck to the core at the softened features, so identical was the expression and gesture to the true father of her children.

At William’s complaining whine, she relinquished him as well and couldn’t contain a tearful smile as Draco pressed a kiss atop his head.

His eyes suspiciously bright, Draco made eye contact. “Before we go to the conservatory, would you follow me to my chambers, Granger? There’s something that you should see.”

“Call me Hermione,” she blurted and wondered at herself.

“Of-of course, H-hermione. Please.” 

He led the way, and they arrived in one of the wings of the spacious manor. He stood by the entrance of the en suite bathroom and said, “You’ll want to look into the mirror. I’ll wait out here and get better acquainted with the children.”

Hermione gave an involuntary cry when she saw the mirror. 

In blood were writ the words, 

> _I’m Draco Malfoy from a separate world. This is not a hoax._  
>  _If our lives are in any way identical, then you will have a_  
>  _scar upon your arse from being discovered making cookies_  
>  _in the kitchens. You will have been slapped by a swotty_  
>  _know-it-all in Third for being a git. And you will have used a_  
>  _clear bottle containing liquid as the first test of the Vanishing_  
>  _Cabinet._
> 
> _Please, will you pass a message to Hermione Granger and_  
>  _let her know that I am alive and not in peril? Voldemort is_  
>  _dead. Utterly._

Stifling sobs, Hermione pricked her finger and wrote,

> _Messaged received. Val and Will are well. We miss you_  
>  _terribly. Keep safe._

The message from the other world was suddenly smeared and replaced with a bloody handprint. Her left hand over her mouth to contain her whimpers, she followed suit and pressed a similar mark adjacent. 

A moment later, the mirror was wiped clean. Hermione copied and eventually managed to compose herself. With a final, lingering glance at the now pristine mirror, she exited the bathroom and followed Draco downstairs to the conservatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year 10.


	9. Chapter 9

**π/12**

Hermione was using her vanity mirror to apply a bit of eye shadow when she jumped back. A familiar script in blood was appearing. She mentally shook herself. After she became engaged to Draco, she and the Malfoy of the other world agreed that they had to stop corresponding. It became clear that there was no means of reopening the portal once the other Neville had succeeded in defeating the other Voldemort. The anomalous event that had caused the tear in the space-continuum had been righted, healed by the ensuing efforts of peace. 

But once the full message had been imparted, Hermione couldn’t help but smile, though there was a small, sharp twinge of her heart.

__

> _I’m sorry for reneging on my promise. But I wanted you to know_  
>  _that the Hermione of this world agreed to go on a date with me._  
>  _It went well. I’m hopeful of a repeat._
> 
> _I hope you are well._

Hermione quietly counted to ten to calm herself and wrote:

> _I’m so glad it went well. I’m hopeful that there will be a repeat_  
>  _as well. We are all in good health and managing to peacefully_  
>  _cohabit. The twins have exhibited their first signs of magic._  
>  _Poor Crookshanks refused to leave my dressing room for days._
> 
> _I wish you every happiness. Tell your Hermione that smell is_  
>  _the strongest trigger of memories._

There followed a brief smiley face and then the mirror was wiped clean. Hermione removed her message.

When Draco knocked on the dressing room door sometime later, she was ready. Slipping her hand into the crook of his arm, she let him lead her toward the waiting carriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year 15.


	10. Chapter 10

**XX**

Hermione sat at her vanity and debated. It had been an emotional day, first seeing the twins off to their first day at Hogwarts and then receiving their owls in the evening to inform that they’d both Sorted into Ravenclaw. That in itself wasn’t so amazing because they could’ve Sorted into any of the Houses (“Except Hufflepuff!” said the Draconian voice in her head), but until Val’s message, Hermione never knew that Harry had told them that they could choose their Houses if they felt strongly enough about it. And they neither wanted to be separated nor to excite the age-old Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, mellowed as it’d become in recent years. 

Finally plucking up the courage, Hermione let the blade pierce her flesh and wrote a concise message on the mirror.

Within minutes, as if a communication had been expected, a reply appeared. The other Draco thanked her warmly for informing about the results of the Sorting. In return, he shared the good news that his Hermione had recently given birth to their first child, a daughter. Hermione was thrilled for them. 

A different script suddenly joined the conversation to inform that the entire household was in an uproar about the first female heir in generations. Although, it added, both Narcissa and Lucius were thrilled and completely enamoured with their granddaughter. The other Hermione also wrote a note of gratitude for having properly prepared her husband for fatherhood—she’d worried that his stuffily prejudiced upbringing would clash with how she wanted their daughter to be raised. Hermione grinned at the bickering that ensued between the couple behind the mirror.

A short while later, perhaps a bit embarrassed at their behaviour, the other Hermione signed off with well-wishes to her alternate family across the universe.

Left alone, Hermione and the other Draco talked for a few minutes of relevant if inconsequential things in their lives. Eventually, they agreed that this would have to be their final communication. The last vestiges of longing had to be healed so they could truly move on with their lives.

Before wiping her mirror clean for the final time, she wrote:

_“I have wished thee joy ever since first I saw thee. It heals my heart to see thee now in bliss.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year 20.
> 
> End quote from _The Lord of the Rings_
> 
> UPDATE: have outtakes collected in [Supernova](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14087175/chapters/32456418)


End file.
